Stitched
by carcinoarsenic
Summary: A short collection of Nepeta Kanaya drabbles, all written while half-asleep in [Warnings for crackship(?), blood, and vampireness]


"Nepeta, your hair is a mess," Kanaya coos in a motherly tone, cradling her moirail in her arms. "There's twigs and leaves everywhere. You really do need to wash it more."

Nepeta crinkles her button nose. "Why would I?" she asks, stretching her arms. "I have absolutely nothing to clean it with. Besides, I take baths in the river, and I don't want to pawllute it with soaps and conditioners."

Kanaya sighs, cords her slender fingers through Nepeta's scraggly hair. Nepeta mimics a soft purring noise deep in her throat, rumbling warmly as she nuzzles against the rainbow drinker. "You do know you can always shower here?"

"I know. I like it better like this, though."

Kanaya pauses, bites her lip.

"Why? You already know how much I hate unhygienic things. I'm beginning to grow tired of chiding you like this."

"I just like to listen to you talk," Nepeta hums, pressing her body into Kanaya's.

* * *

In return for Kanaya's guidance, Nepeta allows Kanaya to use her as a doll. The jadeblood washes and combs her hair until it is soft and fluffy, rubs lotions and butters into her gray skin, sprays her with exotic perfumes and powders her face. She experiments on her, too, uses her as a model while she stitches and sews new outfits.

Sometimes, when Nepeta grows restless and begins to fidget, she accidentally pricks herself on the pins and needles. Kanaya is sure to wash her up, wipe up the olive drips of blood even though Nepeta swears she would be fine without Kanaya's help.

Kanaya knows she will, but she does not care.

* * *

During the hunting season, when the days grow short and the air turns brisk, Nepeta stumbles in, uninvited. She is always exhausted, often wounded, sometimes on the verge of tears when the hunt is unsuccessful. Kanaya trails her hands up and down her moirail's sides, hums scraps of lullabies taught to her by her long-dead lusus. She kisses her scrapes and dresses her cuts, nuzzles the wounds carved into her arms and legs. When the injuries run bone-deep, and green spills forth and leaves a small trail of olive wherever she steps, Kanaya stitches her flesh closed, zips her shut before she can bleed out and escape.

Nepeta clicks her teeth and hisses when Kanaya washes out her cuts and wraps them in white bandages, but she secretly enjoys it.

There's no way she wouldn't.

* * *

Kanaya, as a rainbow drinker, needs to feed. Nepeta is always the first to notice when her glow dims and her gaze softens, wearily fumbling needles she usually handles with a practiced elegance.

Nepeta does not hesitate.

Kanaya does not want to drink as much as she does, she never does, but she's so hungry. She always skims the surface of Nepeta's neck, fangs scraping at her skin.

"Kanaya, it's okay," Nepeta whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. "You can bite me. I just don't want you to starve..."

That's all Kanaya needs. At first, her fangs make little pinpricks in Nepeta's skin, hardly enough to draw small dots of olive-green blood. She sinks them in slowly, taking care not to harm her moirail. Nepeta clenches her jaw and breathes slowly as she eases herself into the pain.

* * *

Kanaya cries sometimes, early in the mornings when Nepeta is curled up beside her. She cries for her failures, for the deaths she could have prevented - couldn't save Feferi, hardly even hesitated to bring an end to Eridan. She failed her purpose, too, failed to protect the Matriorb, failed to revive her species. The game went on without it, birthing a new universe for Kanaya to reign over, but the scars run too deep to heal. Nepeta wraps her arms around Kanaya and purrs in her ear until she falls back asleep.

Nepeta cries sometimes, too, late at night when Kanaya lays stiff beside her. She cries for her failures, too, for her miserable weakness - couldn't protect Equius like she was supposed to, couldn't stay put like she was supposed to, couldn't protect herself when she had the chance. She failed everyone, including herself, by not fighting back hit after hit after hit. The game went on without her, a new universe was created without her, and although she was able to live in it with her friends, some wounds will never heal, not really. Kanaya rolls over and buries her face in the cat troll's neck, whispers saccharine words in her ear until Nepeta is able to calm herself down.

They are two aching, broken souls pretending to find comfort in one another.


End file.
